Fake (7 page)

Chay's answered for him and I admit the smooth line sounds like the kind of guy Lana would like. She immediately rates his comment to back up my suspicion.

I text Chay.

It's hardly an answer but I don't have time to discuss it. If I don't dress and leave the house in the next three minutes I won't make it to school on time. Which outfit? The miniskirt, the shorts or the dress that's closer to a leotard.

Decide.

The short shorts and red tank are the best of a bad bunch and I grab the impossibly high wedges and leather trench coat to complete the look. I wince at my reflection. Chay might be able to pull an outfit like this off but I might as well be wearing a sign flashing ‘tramp.' Or more accurately ‘uncomfortable as anything, inexperienced tramp'.

Thank goodness I took the time to shave my legs because white and too curvy is bad enough, but hairy would be even worse. I wrap my hair in the black scarf, add the sunglasses and finally the red lipstick. I snap a photo and send it to Chay.

I have to try though. I said I would do this for her, and not turning up will get my best friend in even more trouble. Back in our first year of high school my period arrived in a rush one lunchtime, soaking through my skirt. Chay shivered through the rest of the day so I could wear her jumper tied around my waist.

I'm out the door with my study stuff rammed in my bag before she replies.

As I walk beneath trees branches waving in the chill breeze I find that I'm swaying my hips a little like Chay does. It must be because my legs have gone completely numb from the cold. In comparison the jacket is warm enough and my hair is already sticky with sweat from the scarf. I have to stop myself nervously licking my lips in case I smudge the red lippy.

I'm fine until I step into the empty school grounds. I walk under my lunchtime gum tree and approach the library from the back. The better for avoiding anyone who might blow my cover.

My feet begin to drag as I climb the steps near the door. It's the oldest building at the school and I think it was once a fancy house or meeting hall. It has a stone front bordered by dusty red bricks and the door sits beneath a matching stone archway.

I've always liked the high school library. It's shared with the primary school and I hid out here for most of my first week in town before Chay adopted me as her best friend. Today my hands shake and frozen knees tremble as I step through the brand new sliding doors into what was once my sanctuary.

I swallow to moisten a dry mouth. The teacher is at the end of the entry hall, just like Chay said he would be. He's staring down at the screen of his mobile phone and doesn't look up as I pause just inside the doors.

I try to make my legs move, but it feels like someone has swapped the carpet for setting concrete and I'm going to be stuck here forever.

Move
.

My legs ignore the command. Maybe the cool temperature has literally frozen them in place.

Or maybe I'm too scared to do this.

I take a deep, fortifying breath. ‘Get your name crossed off and you're home free.'

‘Talking to yourself, Kath?'

I know that choc-peppermint voice. I spin and nearly trip because of the heels. Sebastian's hand reaches out and catches me under the elbow.

‘How did you know it was me?'

His eyes crinkle in a smile that doesn't need his lips. ‘Your signature blue legs.'

I look down, unsure whether to be offended. ‘They are rather blue.'

He nods seriously but his eyes are still smiling. ‘Probably because it's freezing out there.' He looks down again. ‘Not that I mind the view.'

I need Chay here. She's so much more experienced with boys than I am. She'd know whether his words were supposed to make my skin tingle or whether he's just teasing.

‘Are you stalking me?'

He chuckles. ‘No.'

I wait for him to explain what he's doing here but instead he turns the tables. ‘I could ask you the same question. We'll find my name on Mr Jones' list. Will we find yours?'

He looks me up and down again. It's pretty damn obvious I'm not dressed as my usual self. I'm going to have to come up with something because if he calls me Kath near that teacher, then this whole thing will have been a waste of time.

And I didn't dress up like a fool for nothing.

‘It's hard to explain.'

He folds his arms in a classic
I'm not going anywhere
pose. I can't help but notice how it shows off his arm muscles in the long sleeved grey t-shirt he's wearing. They're just about perfect. Exactly the right amount of lean strength without being obvious. Unlike Chay, who can be found admiring anyone working out, I've never been into guys who pump weights.

Unaware of my arm appreciation, Sebastian is still waiting.

I lower my voice. ‘I'm doing Chay a favour. It's no big deal.'

And the words are true except that it is for me, and I think from the way he looks at me, with understanding in his smile, he knows.

‘Come on then.' He slips an arm around my shoulder as if it's the most natural thing in the world. He's a mile taller than me, even with the heels adding inches, so it settles across my back lightly, but every cell in my body is attuned to the contact. The warmth heats my blood through the trench coat and the tiny singlet.

We fit together. Like a couple.

He's steered me toward the teacher and the sign-in sheet before I can stop him. Or prepare. Or even panic. Much.

‘Aw, Chay,' he says with a whine. ‘Say you'll come out with me tonight.'

I look up, way up, into green eyes that are telling me to go along with him.

‘I, ah …' My voice is all croaky but it doesn't matter. His voice carries to Mr Jones whose head jerks up at the loud volume. The teacher glares before glancing down at his list. ‘Chayanne Davy?'

I nod, my voice gone. I couldn't speak if I tried, but my mind is screaming,
I'm Kath. Can't you tell I'm actually Kath?
I'm like a person told to stay back from the edge of a cliff, who can't help but lean out into the empty nothingness.

Sebastian anchors me to his side. Can he hear the thump of my heart? He must be able to. It's drowning out everything else and I don't know whether it's more from pretending to be someone I'm not or this gorgeous boy's proximity.

He leans forward, reading the list upside down, and points to his name. ‘And Sebastian Elliot.'

Moments later we're ticked off and through the door into the welcoming book-lined library.

Sebastian sits next to me at one of the long tables, ignoring Mr Jones' glare. ‘Study time,' the teacher calls out. ‘This is detention, not a social gathering.'

‘Yes, sir.' We reply in unison.

I'm fighting fits of giggles. I can't believe it was so easy.

I open the textbook to finish my assignment and start up one of the school computers in case I need to look something up but the words blur in front of me. I'm far too aware of Sebastian to concentrate on the text. If I move my knee a little my bare flesh will brush against his denim-encased thigh.

‘Why?'

His soft question is muffled by the walls of books on three sides, and the low sound doesn't make the teacher look up. I look his way and meet the green eyes that have monopolised my waking and sleeping thoughts. I can only hold his gaze for a second. It's hard to frame a sentence when he looks at me like he is now.

Intense.

Interested.

As though I am somebody.

Part of me hopes if I can keep him from really seeing me then he won't discover the truth. I am neither crazy nor interesting. I'm plain Kath, despite my outfit today, and I'm not the kind of girl for a boy like him.

‘Why what?' I mutter. I'm not as skilled at the whole speaking softly thing because Mr Jones startles at my words. He doesn't look our way though, instead stretching and standing. ‘Coffee machine,' he calls over his shoulder.

For the first time I consider the youngish teacher's grey, shining skin and recall the red glow to his eyes. He's had a BIG night.

With the teacher gone the other kids make no pretence of doing their work. One year nine with long hair and four piercings I can see screws up paper and uses the library return chute as a goal. A girl with a shaved head pulls out her mobile and calls a friend.

Sebastian leans back in his seat and folds his arms. ‘Why are you playing dress-ups?' A brow arches. ‘Not that it can't be fun.'

I blink as I take in the teasing innuendo and then heat climbs up my throat as I imagine what other kinds of dress-ups he could mean. I hope the scarf and coat are doing their work to shield my skin.

I shift in my chair. ‘Chay asked me.'

‘That's all it takes?'

I laugh aloud at his audacity and then stop in case the teacher returns. ‘Not for you.'

His beaten down puppy dog pout makes me laugh even more and I shove him lightly on the arm. He catches my hand and his eyes turn serious. ‘You could get in trouble.'

‘I know.' As much as I love the intimacy of holding his hand I don't need a warning. I've had plenty of pity the last few days and I don't want him to think I'm being taken advantage of. I pull my hand away to fold with the other in my lap. Chay's problems aren't mine to spread around. ‘Chay and I have been friends for a long time and she needed me. I owe her a lot. When I first moved here, I didn't know anyone.'

‘I know how you feel.'

I'd forgotten. ‘But you've settled in like you've been here your whole life.'

‘I'm glad you think so.' I glance his way but he's staring out the window, his focus somewhere far away. ‘Everything is always more complicated than it seems from the outside.'

‘I know.'

He looks at me then, head tilted.
Really
seeing me. ‘I think you do.'

I swallow and look away to break the spell. It's hard to be serious wearing Chay's clothes in the middle of detention. I'm not sure I want this boy to be able to read me. I like to think I'm good at keeping myself to myself – if you exclude stupid marches across the schoolyard to confront my ex-date to the disco.

‘So, why are you here for detention on this fine Saturday?'

He seems to accept my change of subject. ‘I was late to school.'

‘Why?'

A shadow flits across his face and the aloof Sebastian is back. ‘Overslept,' he says eventually.

Now it's my turn to study him. I didn't think it was that personal a question, but I can read his ask-me-no-more signals like he's straight out told me it's none of my business.

‘Sorry for asking.'

Mr Jones staggers back in and we return to our study, effectively ending the conversation.

It doesn't stop me thinking about it though. What could he be hiding? If I had to guess from his intent concentration on the computer screen in front of him, I would say he's deadly serious about his schoolwork, so I don't believe he'd just rock up late. Not without a very good reason.

Is he like Chay with trouble at home?

I sneak a glance his way but can't read anything in his expression. Now I wish I'd asked more when I had the opportunity, even at the risk of him telling me to butt out.

CHAPTER

7

Time ticks by painfully slowly and I can't focus. The longer detention lasts, the more I begin to blame Sebastian for my unease. Who is he to be so off-limits? I can't think straight because of all the questions I need answered.

By the time Mr Jones heads out for another coffee I'm ready. ‘What does 404 mean?'

His head jerks up. He scans my computer screen, which is open to a blank word processing document. ‘You found it on a website?'

I shake my head. ‘You wrote in the dust the other day, outside the bathroom.' He says nothing for a long moment and I try to act like I don't have every moment of our conversation imprinted in my mind from replaying it a bajillion times. Maybe I misread, but it's too late to back out now. ‘You wrote it on the ground when you were looking at me a lot like you are now.'

He nods like that makes sense. ‘I didn't realise. I was probably thinking about class. It's an error message you get on websites all the time. Means the link is broken.'

‘Oh, okay.'

He returns his attention to his computer but the zeros and ones across the screen don't move. There's something about the way he's looking at the rows of numbers and letters – computer code I assume – that is too interested. Forced.

Fake.

Maybe the whole 404 thing was about me after all.

I swivel so he can't see my screen and do a search. In seconds, I know more than I ever wanted to about this standard error code. It means the client was able to communicate with the server but the server couldn't find what was requested.

It's a perfect summary of his slightly confused expression when I wasn't heartbroken about the Joel-Lana thing.

I close the page before he can see. Not that he's even looking my way.

I don't mention the 404 error again but store it away in my mental Sebastian file. Something taking up more and more of my brain capacity the longer I spend with him.

I don't know if it's Chay's outfit that gives me daring or whether it's that I'm not in any hurry to head home to an empty place, but when detention is over and we're walking out I fall into step beside Sebastian.

He bumps my shoulder in a friendly way. ‘You did it.'

‘Ouch.' I pretend to rub at the spot but my grin gives the lie to playing injured. ‘I did, didn't I?'